


Sacrament

by Subsequent



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Being good is hard, Gen, “They’re Back; Aren’t They” Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 11:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15971201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subsequent/pseuds/Subsequent
Summary: She’d tried, afterwards.(Or: Charlotte tries something new, and learns a lesson along the way).(Set mid-season 3)





	Sacrament

**Author's Note:**

  * For [titC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/gifts).



> For titC, who prompted R.E.M.'s classic [_Losing My Religion_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwtdhWltSIg) ♥

 

She’d tried, afterwards.

Not that hell _was_ real, not that she _really_ belived that she’d escaped from there - but… 

There was a several month gap where her memories should be. A gap she couldn’t explain, couldn’t rationalise away, couldn’t ignore. A gap where, instead, all she could remember was her life on repeat, her family killed _again_ and _again_ and _again_ , the afterimages burnt into her nightmares so vividly that come morning she’d open her eyes and still expect to smell the same damn coffee, pour the same damn cereal, and sit there smiling while yet another murderer came through her kitchen with a gun and a grudge to bear. 

So she tried. 

The problem was, there wasn’t a proper guideon _how_ to be good. She was _good_ at guides. Had to be, to get to where she was - she’d aced her examinations and her cases in part because, aside from anything else, she was diligent. She wouldn’t excuse a mistake from anyone, least of all herself, and it was a habit that had not only served her well during her career but had also saved it a number of times over. If she set her mind to something, it was - usually - as good as done. 

But morality was...fuzzy. Had anyone checked her search history - and they couldn’t, she’d been quite diligent about clearing that out too, not even wanting the _possibility_ of awkward questions - they’d find tab after tab on research, on how-tos and opinion pieces on how to be a good person, and they all… 

Well, it wasn’t so much _conflicting_ as it was _unhelpful._ ‘Find a role model!’ they exclaimed. ‘A mentor will help you!’ - and she’d _tried_ with Ella, she honestly had - and though she’d received some advice, it hadn’t gone further than a possible friendship and a role in the DA’s office. 

But she still woke from her nights with her children’s screams ringing in her ears, and though she threw herself into prosecutions, into a new life and hopefully a new her, it just… it wasn’t enough. 

So she decided to try something _else_ , too. 

Religion had never been her thing - frankly, it was time that she could have been working and charging to her clients, instead - but it popped up enough as a suggestion in her results that she figured that she had to at least give it a _try._ Along with being diligent, she was methodical, too, and though she didn’t really want to, she knew herself enough to know that she had to at least _attempt_ to cross it off her list before she could move on to the next thing. 

And, besides, if hell really had been - if it really had been _real_ , if she really had managed to escape that place, not that she _really_ believed it, not _really_... wouldn’t a religion tell her how to avoid going back there?

 

She managed to pin Ella down at work, as usual, the rest of the office carrying on as normal around them, the bustle of a busy precinct barely filtering through the glass walls of the lab.

“Ah!” she said, knocking on the door frame and entering before Ella could protest otherwise. “There you are. Perfect.”

Ella startled, spinning to face her, ponytail flaring out behind her.

“Uh, hi,” she said, wrongfooted and trying to recover. “Um. Charlotte. Hello. What are you doing here? Is there a new case or something?”

“No, no, no case,” said Charlotte, stepping into the room properly and glancing around. “I’ve come here to ask you about - well, about a personal matter, actually.”

Ella glanced around too as if looking for an exit, only meeting Charlotte’s eyes again when she realised that wasn’t really an option. Charlotte could have felt bad about it, having knowingly positioned herself between Ella and the door, but… she didn’t. 

“Suuure,” Ella said, hesitantly, pulling off her safety glasses and backing up a bit, “What’s up?”

“You’re religious,” Charlotte said, gesturing at her, up and down, “You wear the cross and everything, every day. I’m - kind of looking around at the moment for a religion to try, and you’re the only person I know who actually _believes_ in the whole thing. Well, other than Lucifer, but he doesn't count. Anyway, I was hoping for some - advice, on how to approach it.”

Ella looked dumbfounded for a second, before pulling herself together enough to ask, “Uhhh, you mean you want to - join a church? Or you just want to see what it’s all about?”

“The latter. I want to - try, this religion thing. Preferably one that has clear rules on what to do and what not do for eternal life, that sort of thing.” 

Ella relaxed her stance a little from the defensive posture she’d fallen into earlier, this line of questioning clearly not what she’d been expecting when Charlotte had first barged in. “Well, uh, that’s most of them, really. And I can’t speak for all religions everywhere, I’m more of a one-faith-only kinda gal, but - I mean, I guess I can tell you some things, I don’t mind sharing my experiences or whatever. That's fine. Sure.”

“Excellent!” Charlotte said, delightedly, crowding back into the space that Ella had wedged between them. “Thank you. Firstly -”

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” said Ella, interrupting, holding up an hand as if physically blocking her. “You mean you want to have the conversation right now? Like right now, right now?”

“Well, yes,” said Charlotte, “I just said that's why I'm here, didn't I?”

Ella sighed.

“Look,” she said. “I'm totally okay with helping you out with this, like, _one_ specific thing, but - I can't do it _here_ , my workload is _nuts_ today.”

She threw a thumb to point behind her, at both what she'd been staring at before and the desk it was sitting on.

“Oh,” said Charlotte, momentarily caught off guard before rallying. “When, then? You know what they say - no rest for the wicked.”

Her laugh wasn’t particularly convincing, even to her own ears. She took a step or two backwards, resting her hip against the side of the lab table. It felt a little like defeat - intellectually she knew that she didn’t have to do this _now_ , that it would be fine to wait a day or two or more - but it had already felt like a concession to ask Ella for further help in the first place, and she didn’t like even coming _close_ to something like a setback.

Asking for assistance may have seemed like something small, but it wasn’t to her.

Ella eyed her as she thought on it, chewing at her lip a little as if judging Charlotte’s sincerity, before seemingly coming to a decision. She stood up a little bit straighter, adjusted her jacket. 

“Mm. Okay. Tell you what.”

“What?”

Ella muttered a ‘I hope I won't regret this, but…’ under her breath that she _had_ to have known that Charlotte could hear, but continued on with a - “I'm actually going to my local church. Tonight. I’m going to my local church, tonight, for mass, and they don't mind newcomers. You should - come with me. It might answer some of the questions you have, and I can show you how it works. Well, at least some of it. Not everything. But - I mean if you have any other questions you can also ask the others there, too, so you can get lots of opinions, not just mine.”

“Oh,” said Charlotte. That... hadn’t been what she’d been expecting. 

It made a certain kind of sense, to go along, but - 

Charlotte never liked being in a space that she couldn’t at least have _some_ control over, and the idea of a church - the space itself, not faith in general - where she’d have to interact with _people_ , and other, _religious_ people, where she’d have to _socialise_ with them, and listen to _small talk_ , and she’d be forced to stare at physical reminders of - that - place - the place that she’d - 

“No,” she said, instead, giving a jittery laugh, backing up even further. A small part of her judged her behaviour from a distance - she _never_ backed down - but the larger part of her ignored it. “No, thank you. I, uh, think I’ll just stick to the research for now, and less of the - hands on, aspect. It’s not exactly - my thing.”

Ella raised an eyebrow. 

“Nu-uh. That's my offer. I will help you with this whole - religion thing, but only if you come with me.”

Charlotte just looked back at her, unimpressed. Ella didn’t seem phased, just shrugging in response, already reaching to pull her safety goggles back on.

“Take it or leave it, my friend - it’s a one-time deal.”

Charlotte… 

Charlotte gave in. _I need a change_ , she told herself. _I need_ to _change._

It didn’t mean she had to like it.

“Fine,” she gritted out, already regretting asking in the first place, “Just let me know when, and where.”

 

She arrived early, though it still wasn’t early enough to get a decent parking space. 

“I’ll be right back,” said Ella, as they claimed a seat in the last row of pews. “Are you sure you want to sit all the way back here?”

“Yes” said Charlotte, refusing to budge on this point. The less people who had the opportunity to see her, the better. She’d already seriously considered leaving her sunglasses on to hide her face, until Ella had elbowed her side and given her a pointed look as they entered. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed, but she… she didn’t _do_ this.

Up until recently, she didn't think that she needed saving.

“Okay,” Ella said, doubtfully. “You stay here for now, I’ll be right back. Don’t worry about anything at this stage - you said this is your first time here, right?” 

She nodded. 

“Yeah, so, all good. You just sit here and I’ll be back before it starts, I’m just going to go say a quick hello to some people and do some stuff, okay?” 

She beetled off, leaving Charlotte to look around and absorb the atmosphere. 

The interior was about as much as she had expected, about as much as any church anywhere. Vaulted ceilings that looked like they were trying to scrape the sky, stained glass, marble stairs. Sculptures. A cross, which provided the main focus of the room. 

She felt - as if she should be feeling more than she was. She had half expected to get a sense of _rightness_ wash over her as she walked in, as if something in her would recognise this space, let he know that _this_ was where she needed to be. Something that would loosen the guilt that she still carried, the tangled knot of complicated emotions that she still didn’t want to prod at too deeply. 

As it was she just felt - blank. Empty. Slightly agitated, and definitely already wondering if this was a waste of time. So far they’d been here about twenty minutes and they’d done _nothing_ , just sit and wait. The sense of all the work she had left to do loomed large, and it was only through a concentrated effort that she stayed put - one night, she told herself. She’d never quit on something before, and she wasn’t going to now. She had to at least _try._

 

Ella made her way back as the rest of the room was filling up, sliding in past her to take a position closer to the center of the pew.

“This session always gets busy” she whispered as an aside, settling herself in. “Most places don’t run late-night stuff but they tried it here and it was a hit, so it stayed.”

“How - practical,” she managed, and that was about all the small talk she was able to get in before the whole thing started. 

She wasn’t sure what to expect. 

She definitely didn’t expect it to be so _interactive_. 

“Do I have to join in?” she hissed to Ella as they made their way through the first group prayer. 

Ella just nodded, following along with the rest of the congregation perfectly, sounding as if she meant every word. Charlotte fidgeted with the booklet she’d been given, flicking through a couple of pages, halfheartedly repeating the phrases with the rest of the crowd.

In truth, her attention was elsewhere. 

She couldn’t see how this would _help_ , that was the thing. Oh, she could tell that the people here _believed,_ but - there was nothing here that seemed to _connect_ with her, nothing that seemed like it would offer her some clue on how to undo a lifetime’s worth of actions that she’d already taken. 

Two lifetime’s worth of actions.

Even watching Ella, earlier, as she had flitted around speaking to people - it seemed like everyone here knew each other, that this was a _community_. That, as so often seemed to be the case recently, she was on the outside, looking in, unable to get any further. 

She could see the rows of heads in front of her, couples next to each other, family groups, toddlers occasionally getting up to dangle over the backrest of a row before a parent quickly grabbed for them. 

She was reminded of Micah, briefly, how he’d always been so curious when he’d been younger -

She tried to refocus. 

But it kept _going_ , and if anything, as they switched to a scripture reading, it got worse. 

They were talking about the nature of sin, about those who were damned, and her shoulders tensed. Ella noticed, shooting her a questioning look, and she shook her head, dismissed it.

But _she_ couldn't dismiss it.

It was bad enough that you were pretty sure you’d been to the one place that not even a lawyer could get you out of. 

It was another to see yourself reflected in the warning tales they told others, to be used as the example of what _not_ to be. 

She stuck it out, but her thoughts kept circling, and circling, and _circling_ \- back to one moment, one morning frozen in time.

And - and that was it. 

Charlotte got to her feet, head down, and left the building.

 

Ella found her outside, sitting on one of the benches that dotted the stonework landscaping. It was quiet, despite the occasional car that meandered past - everyone was inside, the sermon now muffled by the heavy wood doors that had closed behind them.

“Hey,” she said, stopping next to her, “Are you - okay? You just kinda ran out here.”

Charlotte tried to relax, tried to hide the way her eyes kept welling up even though they hadn’t yet spilled over.

“I’m fine,” she said, not looking at Ella. “I’m - fine. You should probably go back inside, I’ll be back with you shortly.”

“Are you sure?” asked Ella, sitting down next to her, “You don’t want to tell me anything? Like, I mean, you’re still totally slightly scary and all, but I’m also here for you, y’know?” 

Charlotte blinked back the tears and took a deep breath to center herself. She was touched, as surprised as she was about it, but -

“I -” she started, and then stopped. “It’s - nothing.” 

Ella’s eyebrows raised, disbelieving. “Mmmhmmm” she said. “And that’s why we’re both sitting out here, and not in there. Because of nothing.”

Charlotte gave her a flat glance. If Ella noticed her red eyes she didn’t comment, but she did say, “C’mon. This isn’t exactly a confessional, but if here isn’t the place for a deep and meaningful, then where is?” 

“Deep and meaningful?” 

“Have you seriously never had a D&M before? I mean - a conversation. Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

Charlotte thought it over, staying silent for a couple of seconds, before - 

“I’m thinking,” she said, “That it’d be much easier if there were _rules_ about this kind of thing - without - all the rest of it.” 

Ella looked her over in confusion. “Like - what, exactly?”

“Like - this is good, this is bad, here’s a ten step program to staying out of Hell.”

“There are the ten commandments?” she offered, still not getting it.

“Yeah, but - yeah,” she said, not elaborating. “I mean - what are the resources for people who want to, I don’t know, ace this without having to follow the _church_ itself? How to be the _best_ at following the rules without the religion, without having to deal with the people and the community and the schedule and the prayers and _everything_?” 

“You… you can’t be the _best_ at religion,” said Ella, somewhat incredulously. “It is super not a competition.” 

“What about the Pope?”

“What _about_ the Pope?”

“Well, if anyone’s the _best_ at religion, it has to be him, right? I mean, he even managed to get some free real estate out of the whole deal, that has to count for _something_.”

“That’s not really how this whole thing - works?” she said, now appearing thoroughly lost. “Look, Charlotte, are you - I mean - what’s your aim here? What drove you to come to me today, really? Is this about the _being good_ thing that you were on about earlier?”

Charlotte looked away instead of answering. 

“So it is, huh.”

“Maybe,” said Charlotte. “Maybe I want to - go to a better place, when I die. I mean, no-one wants to go to Hell, right?”

She gave another unconvincing laugh and stared at her hands rather than face Ella head on.

Ella shifted back, taking a second before responding.

“That,” she said decisively, leveling a finger at Charlotte, trying to meet her eyes. “If this _is_ tied in to the whole morality thing, then that is your problem, right there. You can’t do good just because you’re worried about the consequences if you don’t - you have to do good because it’s the _right thing_ to do. Compliance out of fear is totally not the same thing as being a good person. You know that, right? Please tell me you know that.”

“Well, what’s the point of _that_?” asked Charlotte, looking back up again and staring. “I thought the entire idea of a religion was to follow the rules and end up in a ‘better place’ when you die.”

“Well, I mean, kinda,” said Ella, “But no, not really. I mean, sure, some do, but most are - they provide a community for people to find support, puts them in an environment where they _want_ to do good. You can do good out of love, too, y’know. Like I love the Big Guy, and so I totally think that what he’s said makes sense, and that’s why I’m here - but I’m not here because I’m worried about Hell or whatever.”

Charlotte flinched, minutely. Ella seemed to pick it up, backpedaling a little.

“Fearing Hell is totally fine!” she rushed in to say, “I mean, by all accounts, it’s not exactly a great place. It just shouldn’t be, like, the cause for all your actions, y’know?”

“I think I get it,” said Charlotte, slowly. “And... I think I’ve learnt that this is not going to be for me. Thank you, Ella, but I need to go.”

She stood up, smoothing out the creases in her skirt in two quick, efficient motions, before starting to stride away, her long legs eating up the pavement. 

“What?” asked Ella, surprised, and then called after her, rising from her seat - “Hey! What’s up? Where are you going!?”

Charlotte just kept striding, though she threw a look over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you at the precinct later,” she said. “Thank you for tonight, Ella. Even if it didn’t work out, I appreciate it.”

“You’re... welcome?” Ella replied, staring after her until she’d disappeared around the corner, likely aiming for her car. 

“Weird,” she muttered to herself, before sighing. She glanced up at the night sky - to the stars well hidden behind the smog of LA - and glared a little at them. 

“You keep an eye out for her, okay?” she said to the empty air. “She’s a good person. Or she _could_ be. She just needs time.” 

She didn’t get a response, not that she expected one, but the wind did pick up against the line of trees around her, rustling them as if in answer. Their shadows made a shifting pattern against the concrete, branches silhouetted against the sodium yellow of the street lamps.

She watched them for a second or two, just contemplating, quiet, before she turned around and headed back to the warmth inside. 

 

Rather than go home, Charlotte went back to the precinct. At this hour the lights were on low, most of them off entirely, the remaining few flickering as the occasional night shift worker walked by, the motion sensors turning on the overheads only to darken them again minutes later. 

She didn’t really want to be here, but then, she didn’t really want to go back to her apartment, either. It echoed, her new place. It was too big and too empty and too _loud_ in its silence. Where earlier the corners of her home would have been filled with the noises of her kids and her husband getting ready for bed, arguing, talking, laughing - now there was nothing. 

In some ways it was easier. It meant when she woke up gasping, she knew that she was no longer in a never ending loop, because the only person in the kitchen these days was _her_. 

She was contemplating packing up when the lights picked out the path of someone making their way across the office. She ignored it, up until the light closest to her flickered on to show Dan, file in hand and looking about as tired as she felt. 

He dropped the file on his desk and reached down to grab something under it, and only seemed to notice that she was there as he straightened, catching her eye through the glass of the meeting room. 

His eyebrows rose, and he made his way over, abandoning whatever it was he’d originally come in for. 

“Hey,” he said, opening the door and leaning against the frame, hanging back a little, giving her space. “What are you doing back so late?”

“Hi,” she managed back, not unwelcome but also not entirely in the mood for company. “I’m - ” 

She teetered on the edge of lying. But - this was Dan, and Dan had already seen her sobbing in the men’s bathroom. After that point - what more could she say?

“ - avoiding home. I just came back from a church service with Ella, and I realised, that - I don’t think I’d ever be able to get in the good graces of God, if he - if he actually exists. I just - I can’t do it. I don’t think religion is for me. But - then that means I’m pretty much bound for hell, right?” 

_Again_ , she thought, but didn’t say.

She felt her eyes well up again and was momentarily frustrated at life, at everything and everyone, at this stupid useless feeling that had destroyed her self confidence and turned her inside out. It faded as quickly as it came, leaving her drained.

Dan lifted his eyebrows, pushing up off the door frame and entering the room properly. 

“Some, uh, heavy stuff there. What makes you say that?”

“Because isn’t that the deal? Follow the religion, don’t be a bad person, get into heaven?” 

She scrunched the tissue in her hand tighter and didn't meet his eyes. 

“You don’t have to be religious to believe in good and bad, you do know that, right?” said Dan, half collapsing in the seat opposite her, across the table. “It’s okay to just - believe in something else. Have a moral code based on what _you_ think is good and bad. I mean, follow the law and all that too,” he said, grinning briefly, “ability to _argue_ with the law notwithstanding, but, seriously. It’s okay.” 

“But,” Charlotte said, feeling wrung out in a way that she would never admit, “It’s - it’s not that easy. Say that you - for the sake of argument, what if you _knew_ there was something after - after everything? And you know you don’t want to go _back_ there?”

“Back?” asked Dan, picking it up, confused.

“I mean, if there _is_ a - a Hell,” she continued, hoping he wouldn’t push for clarification. “Wouldn’t the best course of action be to - I don’t know, go to church? Follow their rules? If it - if it’s real, which, I mean, it totally isn’t, of course, but, if - if someone wanted to avoid - damnation, wouldn’t that be best?”

Dan just looked at her for a second, silent and assessing but not unkind. 

“I -” he started, and then tried again. “Look, Charlotte,” he said. “I can’t tell you what to believe. That’s an individual choice, and it’s not like I’m the source of authority on morality or religion, not by a long shot. I’m just a guy who’s trying to get by, like anyone else. But - if you really want my guidance, I can tell you _my_ view on this. I mean, I can’t promise it’d help. And I can’t speak for the best course of action here, for you. But - and this is _my_ view - the thing about churches is that - well, they’re still run by people. They might have rules, but those rules still came from _somewhere_ , and usually that _somewhere_ is actually a _someone_ , they’ve just dressed it up a bit _._ And, sure, they’re probably much smarter that I am on these kinds of things, but I’ve also spent a long time as a cop, and you know the thing I put _my_ faith into?”

“What?” asked Charlotte, sensing that this was her turn to respond.

“People” he said, and sat slightly back in his chair, smiling. “Not the rules, not the scriptures. Just, the people themselves.”

“You’re a homicide detective,” said Charlotte flatly, not following this. “I feel fairly certain that the people that you come into contact with on a day to day basis are not exactly _inspiring_ in their goodness.”

Dan snorted.

“Well, you’d be surprised,” he said, still easy. “Sure, there are bad apples. Heck, I wouldn’t have a job without them. But working as a cop also allows me to see how people help each other in a crisis, too. How families support each other when someone passes away. How communities are willing to work together and work with _us_ to catch a bad guy. I mean, even here, in the office - there are people who put their lives on the line to save others. And _that_ is what I see day to day and _that_ is the example of goodness I want to live up to. Just - lots of small things, done by people helping each other. I don’t need a church for that.”

She'd never really looked at it that way before. Generally, in her line of work, the people around her were not the kind of person you'd want setting examples.

But, she had to admit, that after joining the precinct, the people she usually interacted with were - better. Chloe, who was as smart as a whip, and just as determined. Ella, who had helped her when she didn't need to. Even Lucifer, crazy declarations of devilhood aside.

Dan.

But even so...

“But it would be so much _easier_ if there were just - _rules._ Even if it was without the religion itself.” She said. “This is good, this is bad.”

“Yeah, but. According to who? Who gets to _make_ the rules?”

“I don’t know. God?”

“But that still gets interpreted by _people_. Somewhere down the line, it all gets muddied.”

“True,” she said, and slumped a little in her seat. 

There was a moment of silence. Dan propped his foot up against the edge of the table and used it to spin his chair gently, rocking back and forth, looking up at the ceiling as he did so.

“Y’know, there was this old - I don’t know, this old quote, one of those things you pick up. Some old guy said it, probably. But it always stuck with me. Something about how - you should try to live _your_ best life, regardless of if you worship or not. That if there was a God, he’d appreciate that you’d been good even if you hadn’t praised him, or whatever. And that if you’d been good and you were still cast down, then the dude probably doesn’t deserve the worship he gets in the first place.”

It was Charlotte’s turn to give a choked laugh at that, though it ended up being more of a strangled sob than anything else. Dan eyed her warily, as if unsure if he should give comfort, momentarily pausing his movement. 

She regained her composure and waved a hand, as if dismissing her reaction, and gave him a watery smile. 

“Thanks, Dan.” she said. “That - that helps.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, with another grin, before swinging back upright in his chair. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” she said, surprised to find that it was true. “Yeah.”

He got to his feet properly and held out a hand to her, over the table. 

“C’mon,” he said, “I know we have our dinner organised for later, but - do you want a lift home? We can swing past any fast food place you want. Comfort fries are _also_ a totally legit way to cope with life.”

She hesitated for only a second, before making up her mind and standing.

“I have my car here,” she said, and saw the his eyes dim a little in response, “But - how late are you staying back tonight? There’s nothing stopping us from getting the fries delivered _here_.”

He lit back up again, pulling his phone from his pocket and shaking it at her. 

“Done,” he said. “I’m not a theologian, but this, I can do.”

It was stupid, but Charlotte found herself laughing, Dan joining in, as if a fog was lifting. And in that moment, that little voice inside her said, _okay._

_Okay._

_I can do this._

And on her own terms, in her own way. 

She wasn’t sure if the feeling would last - she hoped it would, though she had her doubts - but for now, it was the best fucking thing in the world.

 

Charlotte slept that night, as soundless as usual, bundled in her blankets and out like a light. 

It was much like any other night, but with one difference - 

She walked into her kitchen, poured her coffee, poured her cereal, and ate breakfast with her family.

 

**Author's Note:**

> It seemed to be the one thing she didn't try, in-show. I always wondered why.


End file.
